All In The Game
by Todd's Pet
Summary: This is another re-visit. I never liked Pushing&Pulling, so this is a re-write from the wraith's POV of the little mind games they play with their human pets and I think it's much improved - I hope you think so too. Gone from a twist to a triple twist


It's all in the Game

The wraith watched her as she hugged her torn garment around her. Several other wraith strode up and down the line of women where she'd been dragged mere moments earlier by two drones – two drones! It had taken two of their best cloned muscle to bring her down she'd put up such a good fight, and he was seriously impressed. The result, however, was inevitable and so she now stood in line, her clothing ripped from her struggle, her fists gripping the fabric, but more to hide her trembling fingers than to hold it together.

Even though he sensed her fear, she kept it deep and he could also sense that, if asked, she would deny it outright and say she was simply cold – she was cold; he sensed that too as he made a bee-line for her from across the field where the drones swarmed, gathering supplies and equipment taken from the village. During the interminable minute it took him to pick his way through the grass clods, she'd turned and looked him straight in the eye, holding his gaze until he stood within less than foot of her. A good start, he thought; most humans couldn't hold eye contact with a wraith for more than a few seconds.

Looking her up and down he inspected her openly while watching for her reaction. Almost as tall as him and strong, well muscled, he liked what he saw; he liked his humans robust since, if all else failed and they outlived their usefulness as a worshipper, they made a heartier meal. Letting his eyes sweep her body in a long, slow appraisal from her toes to the top of her head, he might have expected to see her shrivel with embarrassment, the way most human females would have done by now. But not this one; this one treated him to the most contemptuous glare he'd ever seen any human dare to level at a wraith and he had to hide his amusement.

Noticing that she stood a little apart from the rest of her villagers, he'd thought that was a good sign, too, for those who didn't fit in with their own kind often settled into life on a hive more readily. If the adjustment to hive living was easier on her then it would also be easier for him to adapt to having a human living in his quarters again.

A gust of wind lifted the tear in her tunic and she stifled a small gasp as a shiver ran down her spine and goose bumps rose on her bare arms. Spontaneously he took his coat off and wrapped it around her, coaxing her with his eyes and a nod of his head to put her arms into the sleeves. Narrowing her eyes at him, suspicious of his motives, she nevertheless slipped her arms into the volumous leather overcoat. He reached around her waist to buckle the belt, his action deliberately designed to bring their faces within an inch of each other. When he saw that her gaze did not falter and she did not try to pull away from him, his interest in her was sealed.

"This one is mine," he told the junior officer taking records before leading her to the transporters.

oOo

Still in his coat, the sleeves hanging down beyond her fingertips, she stood in the middle of his living quarters, staring around at the alien surroundings she now found herself in. The fear that he had sensed in her earlier had all but dissipated and now she radiated an intense curiosity.

"I am to live here?" she asked. "With you?"

"Yes. You are my personal slave now," he replied, watching for her response. As anticipated, her first reaction was a flash of anger in the blue eyes that met his, so fierce that, had those eyes been the black-slitted gold of a wraith queen, he would have been prostrate on the floor by now. But within seconds, the sapphire glint dulled and her face softened into resignation.

"Do I have a choice?"

"It's that or be taken to the cocoons as food," he answered, sensing that she would not thank him for anything short of the naked truth.

"That's what I thought," she murmured almost to herself. Taking a long, deep breath in through her nose, she let it out through her mouth in a heavy sigh of capitulation. "Very well then," she went on briskly, and she pushed her arms forward so that her hands came free from out of the coat sleeves and reached for the buckle at her waist. "I better get on with it then. Do I get a list of what you expect me to do?"

In three quick strides he was standing in front of her, his hands pushing hers aside to undo the buckle for her. Focusing his eyes on the task rather than her face, he told her. "You may take the rest of the day to acclimatise…"

Without replying she let him help her out of his coat then simply walked away from him, wandering around his room, taking in its Spartan neatness, running her hands over the strangely gnarled walls and surfaces. When she turned to look at him he was shrugging his coat on over his shoulders, taking a deep breath as he did so, before he realised she was watching him and that it might look as if he were taking in the scent of her that lingered in the lining of his coat. He briskly finished fastening it and pulled himself up to his full height.

The sleeve of her tunic – torn in her earlier attempt to prevent being taken – parted company from the seam and slipped off her shoulder and halfway down her arm, revealing skin that looked enticingly soft and pale under the dim hive lights. Rallying his willpower he turned toward the door and threw his parting words over his shoulder at her. "I have duties in engineering to attend to. I will arrange for clothes and food to be brought to you here and you may use my washroom. I will expect you to begin your tasks first thing in the morning, so make the most of it."

oOo

Throughout his entire watch he struggled to maintain his focus and conducted a troubled mental dialogue behind a tight shield against his brothers' telepathy. He has had numerous slaves before, and his penchant for feisty females has sharpened his wits and strengthened his defenses. But there is something about this one that is disquieting and he deliberately ignored the instincts that warned him she may be a match for him and more trouble than she was worth. She was merely a human, useful for a time until she became food that is all, he reminded himself.

So why did he count down the minutes as he neared the end of his shift? Why did he not even notice his surroundings, let alone acknowledge the nod of his colleague as he walked the deserted hallways back to his rooms? And why did his heartbeat soar when he caught himself wondering what she'd look like when he got there? It's been too long since your last worshipper, he told himself sternly, and you're too old to be acting like an over-eager puppy. By the time he reached the door to his rooms, he had managed to get a grip and almost felt like his old self again.

But the instant his door slid aside and he saw her, his resolve fell apart like molecules in a culling beam. He'd barely taken two steps into his quarters before her head snapped up and she glared at him from where she sat on the floor, surrounded by piles of fabric and a small tray with the remains of a meal of fruit and cheese.

"I can't find anything suitable!" she lamented without preamble, picking up a handful of the clothes lying scattered around her and letting it fall again, "There's nothing here even remotely practical. Do you expect me to do domestic chores dressed like this?" she indicated herself with a sweep of her hand, "Or am I another kind of slave?"

The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable and he briefly wondered if she was going to be worth the effort, but pulled the annoyance and vexation from deep in his guts up into his mind – irritation would be far more useful to him in dealing with her than his earlier wool-gathering.

"Clearly there's been a mistake – I will have it rectified," he told her sharply. But as he uttered the words, she stood up, rising gracefully from the clutter on the floor like a goddess. The shimmering fabric of the dress she wore clung to every curve, sweeping past her lithe limbs before finally came to rest in swaying folds at her feet. She had obviously managed to work out how to use the washroom, for her pale skin was no longer marred with blotches of dirt and grass stains and her hair glistened like honey and fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She was breathtakingly beautiful and he had to remind himself just to breathe.

oOo

Barely an hour later the tumbled pile of exotic dresses had been replaced with a neatly folded stack of practical cotton work-wear and she disappeared into the washroom to change. When she re-emerged she was dressed in a simple tunic and draw-string pants, her hair pulled back into a long, single braid down her back. No longer distracted by the sight of her in clinging silk and glittering brocade, he settled back to something that felt more like his normal self as he instructed her on what tasks and duties he expected her to undertake.

But just as he was beginning to relax, she shot him one of her stubborn looks. "I noticed there is only one bed," she said, "Where do I sleep? Or do I have other duties you haven't told me about yet?"

The confrontational tone of her voice suggested this was something she'd rather die than even contemplate, but there was something in her eyes that made him wonder if she might be just the tiniest bit curious and open to the idea. But now was not the time; he had to assert his authority over her first and he knew from previous experience with human females that any relationship they had, physical or otherwise, had to be on his terms. "As a human you are a slave or you are food. I have given you your chores – obey me or die, it is that simple," he told her.

If he had expected her to back down he was sorely disappointed, for she merely tilted her chin toward him and said, "That's not what I've heard."

Finally losing his temper with her he leapt to his feet and spun around the corner of the table to grab her arm and pull her from her seat, his long hair flying out in a blur of white and wrapping itself around her neck as he held her close to him tightly – too tightly and she winced as his fingers dug into the flesh of her arms.

"You will sleep on the floor, like the animal that you are! You will carry out your tasks efficiently or you will be punished. And you will show respect or I will feed on you. Is that clear?" He hissed the last words at her angrily and he sensed a tiny bud of fear in her. Good, he thought; fear is all that will keep her alive, and he pushed her back into her seat adding, "Humans who do not fear their wraith masters do not live long on a hive. Remember that."

It's going to be hard for this one, he thought, she seems to have little natural fear; perhaps he should consider taking a different approach with her. Deliberately composing his features into something resembling sympathy, he softened his voice and told her, "I'm not as demanding as some wraith. You'll get used to it."

"Learn my place, you mean?" She held the tatters of her pride around herself the way she had done with her clothes when he first laid eyes on her this morning and, as then, the sight wormed its way under his skin in a way he was beginning to think was not healthy. Perhaps the only way to keep this one in line was to rule with fear after all, which would be a pity…

Searching his face as she sat there, pouting and rubbing her arms where his hands had gripped her, she held his gaze brazenly the whole time he was wrestling with his thoughts then, unexpectedly, her eyes took on a soft submissiveness as she looked down at the floor and said simply, "I'm sorry." Briefly stunned at her constant ability to surprise him, he said nothing and she went on, "I can't help it…I've never been able to fit in… I'm too stubborn for my own good…" As her eyes lifted to meet his again he saw a need there, one that had never been met – she needed him to understand her.

"Defiance is healthy," he replied at last, "I even find it quite… stimulating. But do not push it too far and you must never defy me in front of others." He sensed resignation in her and told himself he must rethink how he handles this one; perhaps a softer approach might be for the best after all. With that in mind he turned toward the other room and said gently, "The floor is cold, but the bench under the window in my sleep chamber is comfortable. There should be blankets with your clothing."

Silently she followed him through the doorway and settled herself for the night, exhaustion from a long day full of hard lessons causing her to fall asleep almost instantly. He, on the other hand, lay awake for a long time before finally falling asleep with the same question roiling in his head over and over again: why did it matter to him if she got herself killed with her stubbornness?

oOo

Several weeks went by uneventfully and she seemed to manage to show suitable deference toward him when she needed to, although her willful nature seeped through when they were alone in his rooms at night. But not only did he not mind, he found himself almost looking forward to it. He gave her space and let her speak when she wanted to and before long he realised she was starting to open up to him, that need for her to have someone understand her driving her to tell him about herself, her past, her feelings.

One night they sat in almost companionable silence, he at his computer terminal, looking through and authorising reports, and she sitting on the bench at the other end of the room, busy with her end-of-the-day chores. He raised his head and turned to look at her as she sat in the bay of the window, the back-drop of stars behind her and her head bent as she concentrated on stitching one of the garments from the small pile of mending in her lap.

"I sense you don't know what to make of me," he said softly.

She was already smiling when she raised her eyes from her work to look at him. "And I don't need a wraith's sixth sense to know that I puzzle you too," she said.

"That first day you told me you'd never been able to fit in…" he ventured, encouraging her to talk.

"I seem to fit in better on the hive than in my village." She waited for him to say something but he simply nodded for her to continue. "The people here are different, like me – they don't hate wraith, although they don't trust anyone, not even each other. I suppose that's how they've managed to survive."

"Is that all it is – survival?"

"Human society can be every bit as aggressive and cut-throat as wraith," she said. She put her stitching down on the pile in her lap, lifted the entire bundle and laid it down beside her on the bench, then turned to face him. "It's just that we're not all the same, but then, in truth, wraith are not all the same either, are they?"

How could she make such a simple question sound so much like a challenge, he wondered? "Most humans seem to think we are."

"But you already know I'm not like most humans. I've been brought up to hate and fear wraith and I suppose I did at some time, but now that I've lived among wraith…" She sighed and leaned forward. "Now I feel curious as well as probably still a little afraid and… well, it's confusing."

"You might be less confused if you learned more about us," he said gently, sensing that she doubted that very much – that his gentle attempts to be civilised with her did nothing whatsoever to ease her confusion. He knew this was the right approach to take, the method that would wear her down more effectively than the arrogant anger that only seemed to inflame her defiance.

"It seems I'm not the only one who's different," she said, as if it was an accusation.

"How so?" he asked her. Standing from his chair, his long, relaxed stride brought him across the room in just a few steps, where he settled himself beside her on the bench.

"You're not an average wraith," she said. As if to illustrate the point he reached out and rested his hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off. "Why are you being kind to me?"

"Kindness is a crime?"

Pulling her brows down into a frown she answered, "It seems to be for most wraith. Besides, I remember the things you said to me my first day; you were not so kind then. What kind of game are you playing?"

"I had to make you understand how dangerous life can be for a human living on a hive, or else you would not have lasted the week."

"And why would it matter to you whether I live or die?"

"Is it so hard to comprehend? We're not that different, you know… wraith and human… me and you…" He laid his hand on her head as he spoke and brushed his fingers through her hair. The wistful tone in his voice was making her more receptive, he could tell, and he kept his eyes soft as she searched their golden depths, looking for any sign of deception, but he knew she saw none and sensed her deepening bewilderment.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, not sure if she really wanted to face all the possibilities.

"Is it not obvious?" he said, tilting his head as he reached out to her again.

When he rested his warm palm on her cheek her eyes told him that it was indeed obvious to her. "Now I'm really confused," she said.

oOo

Another few days went by and he continued to give her time and space and with each day he felt her growing closer to him and he knew this softly-softly approach was working. Her tantrums grew fewer and farther between and when he reacted with gentleness instead of anger, they dissipated like cosmic dust in a nebula, leaving her apologetic and pliable.

But today had been a bad day for her – it seemed she had come up against the wrath of the worshippers' matriarch, who had given her a tongue lashing for her insolence and put her firmly in her place in the worshippers' hierarchy. And, as she had confessed on that first day, she just couldn't help herself and she took it out on him when he returned to his quarters. But, unlike that first day, he did not lash out at her in anger but instead tried to push her off kilter.

"You hate me," he said quietly, injecting an air of sadness into his voice. It seemed to work for she was suddenly speechless and merely stared at him for several long minutes, during which he gritted his teeth and held his silence.

When she finally spoke it was clear she had backed down several notches. "No, I don't hate you, but I do hate this situation I'm in."

"So, you like me?" he asked, immediately pulling her in the opposite direction to keep her off balance. Moving in close behind her, he swept her hair back over her shoulders with his hands. Letting his fingertips briefly brush the sides of her neck and then slowly running his fingers through the length of her hair, he leaned forward slightly so he could smell the clean, soapy scent of it.

But it was suddenly whisked from his grasp when she spun round to face him, her eyes wide with alarm. "No!" she gasped, "Not like that!"

Oh, how he struggled to keep his face solemn! The fierce sparkle in her eyes made his spine tingle and he firmly suppressed the desire to smile broadly at her shocked reaction, for he sensed that, just below the surface, she too was struggling with conflicting emotions.

"You could be my official worshipper, not my slave," he told her as he stepped around to stand behind her again, putting his hands on her upper arms and squeezing gently. Having appealed first to her drive to survive, he then switched tactics and played with her desire to belong, to fit in. "It would be like a promotion; you would be more readily accepted by the others…" Sensing her confusion he closed in for the kill. He ran his hands slowly up her arms and over her shoulders, lightly massaging them for a few seconds before he leaned in close and brushed his lips across her neck, his warm breath stirring the hair at her ear as he whispered, "Don't you want what I want?"

"But you're a wraith!" she cried. "You can't possibly mean…?" He stroked his hand down her hair, making a soft, purring sound as he let his hands drift back down her arms and snake around her waist; his palms flat against her stomach held her close, her back against the warmth of his body.

"I know you want to," he purred in her ear, "I can sense it."

Suddenly she pulled away from him and spun round to face him again. "Stop that! Stop getting in my head! Do you think I'm stupid? I know you're pushing and pulling at me all the time with your little mind games, so just stop it!"

It took every ounce of his self control to keep up the wounded act and he didn't know what he wanted more – to leap at her and feed on her exquisitely sweet defiance, or throw her to the floor and mate with her right here and now like a rutting animal whether she wanted it or not.

"But I thought you wanted…" he said instead, injecting as much hurt as he could into his voice.

"I don't want you, not like that!" As she hurled the words at him the pain he let her see in his eyes made her catch her breath and in that instant he knew he almost had her. "Oh, I don't know what I want!" she cried.

Turning on his heel, steeling himself to play out the final moves, he left the room without a word, leaving her alone, confused and teetering on the brink of surrendering herself to him completely. Striding down the hallway, he smiled to himself as he sensed her emotions as clearly as if he had actually heard her thoughts – _Oh, my God, now I've seen it all. I've just hurt a wraith's feelings!_ He calculated one turn around the block and, by the time he got back to his quarters, she should be ripe for the picking.

oOo

Right enough, she was fretfully pacing the room by the time he got back and he noted with deep satisfaction that her expression on seeing him was one of intense relief.

"I didn't mean…" she began immediately, but faltered when she realised she didn't know what she meant, nor did she really know why she felt such a need to soften the blow of what she had said to him. "I thought I was nothing more than a servant to you," she said. She couldn't keep the note of apology from her voice and, in spite of her apparent reluctance, he sensed that she was almost there, but he must tread carefully to tip her tentatively balanced feelings in his favour.

"Would it be so bad… to be with me?" he asked her, keeping his face soft, his eyes pleading, his arms open.

"I didn't realise you wanted… that first day, with the dresses, you didn't seem to want…"

"I didn't think I did then," he told her, "I've struggled with my feelings too..." Still holding his arms open, he almost willed her to step into them, but still she hesitated. "It's not uncommon, although it tends to be kept behind closed doors," he said, his voice pitched low and with a slight conspiratorial edge, as if he were offering her some great secret that only they could be part of. She took a sharp intake of breath and he opened his arms wider, giving his voice a husky edge as he said, "You do want to, don't you?"

At last she took that final step, both physically and emotionally, and he ensnared her in his arms while she looked at her own hands laid against his chest and sighed. "Sometimes I've caught myself thinking things I feel I shouldn't but I've always stopped myself…"

He leaned his face in close to hers, his lips brushing the fine down on her cheek. "Perhaps you should stop… stopping yourself…" he whispered as he trailed his fingertips down the nape of her neck, his breath warm against her ear. She turned her head in an attempt at one last protest and he captured her lips with his in a kiss he kept soft and hesitant as a sigh. The nearness of him and the remnants of her own confusion made her head spin and he sensed that she had finally admitted to herself that she has feelings for him. He sealed her fate with another kiss, lingering and deep this time, then took her hands and pulled her gently toward the bedroom. "I love you," he whispered between repeated kisses.

Somewhere deep in her mind he saw her fear that she was going to regret this, but her body could do nothing other than respond to him. Before the night was over her mind joined the conspiracy and she finally told him what he wanted to hear: "I love you, too."

oOo

"You brought your lapdog with you," the other wraith said when they reached the meeting. It was not uncommon to bring worshippers to low-level meetings; they were useful if you needed to send them on errands or to fetch something that was needed without interrupting the meeting. Nevertheless, some of the crew found it distracting and questioned the kind of relationship those who did had with their slaves. She knew her survival depended on his protection, so although she bridled at the insult, she held her tongue and satisfied herself with the snarl of disapproval her wraith gave the other.

The two officers took their places at the table while they waited for the others and she stood quietly against the wall behind her wraith as he started to put his report tablets on the table in front of him. "Damn!" he said, "I've missed one."

Leaning forward a little to look over his shoulder she offered, "I know the one – I'll get it for you!" and she rushed from the room, happy to do something useful for him and to escape the scrutiny of the other, while he settled back in his chair, smiling.

"You've got her well trained," the other wraith said. "What's your secret?"

"I couldn't possibly tell you," he said with a hint of embarrassment that was easy to feign as he shielded his mind tightly from the other wraith. If he was to rise through the ranks he must play the games. He knew now that his worshipper was clever, useful in spite of her willfulness, and now that he had her bonded to him he stood a better chance of prospering, especially if his crew mates believed him even more duplicitous than them.

"Go on – strictly between you and me," the other encouraged

"Well, so long as you keep it to yourself," he said as he made an exaggerated gesture of watching the door and turned to his colleague. In a conspiratorial whisper, he told him, "These humans are so easily manipulated, especially the females – give them a declaration of undying love and they're yours forever."

"But why even bother?" His companion was of the opinion that humans were food and slaves, no more, and you should rule them with an iron fist. Perhaps that's why some had even taken their own lives rather than belong to him a moment longer.

"You'd find your life easier if you treat them in a way they consider to be kind. It makes them docile and cooperative," he explains to his crewmate. "In fact, they're so much easier to handle when they think you love them."

oOo

He knew she'd only heard that last sentence when she returned with his text tablet and had almost smacked him in the head with it, she'd felt so angry. It hadn't taken much effort to sense the force of her anger, especially now that they were physically bonded, but they were in public and he felt her survival instinct kick in just in time. Ironically, he was aware of her using the telepathy techniques he had taught her. While she stood against the wall behind him – like a good little worshipper, she was thinking, and he had to cover a smile at her sarcasm – he felt her spend the first half of the meeting concentrating on her breathing and lowering her heart rate.

When she reached the stage where he thought she could sense his emotions, he felt her elation at having succeeded for the first time since he had started to tutor her and he reassured himself that her first thought was how pleased he would be when he knew. Just as she was about to remind herself that she was supposed to be angry with him for what she had heard, he left the lightest touch of his mind in hers, telling her to think of her own survival, which was dependent upon his. He didn't leave her mind until he felt her strength and focus return.

At last the meeting was over and he took the risk of giving her permission to take some free time and go to the worshippers' common room. Whatever she made of the comment she had overheard, he could not watch her day and night and if she was going to hang herself with her own stubbornness, it would be with a noose of her own making, not his.

Nevertheless, he snuck along the back hallway and took up a position just barely out of sight, but within hearing of where she now sat with two of her cohorts. They were both complaining about how harsh their wraith masters were and, while one of them seemed to have resigned herself to that being just the way wraith are, the other was confused because her master was more patient with her when they were alone.

Since she was seated with her back facing him, he couldn't see her face when she spoke, but he heard her tell the others they should try getting closer to their wraith, even mating with them. Their astonishment made her laugh and the sound produced a little lurch in the pit of his stomach as he listened carefully to see if he had lost her trust or not.

"For heavens' sake, why would you want to do that?" the resigned one asked.

"Because they're egotistical game players and you're far more likely to survive longer if you pander to his ego and let him think you love him."

oOo

As her companions mulled over this nugget of wisdom, she twisted her head round to look back over her shoulder. Even knowing she could see nothing in the shadows between the pillars, he instinctively took a step back. But his sharp intake of breath wasn't because he thought she'd seen him; it was because he had just faced up to why the sound of her laugh made his stomach flip and why his heart had squeezed so unpleasantly when she'd implied she was merely toying with him. The instant the thought crossed his mind, she smiled into the shadows and he felt the feather-light touch of her mind in his. _Two can play this game, my angel,_ her voice whispered in his head.

_What game is that, my love? _he answered her, his eyes glittering now he knew all was still well and a wave of warm contentment washed over him.

He didn't even bother to conceal his smile of amusement as he melted into the shadows and turned down the corridor away from the worshippers' common room. It seemed they truly understood each other and were both playing the same game – she was a match for him after all. He knew it was as much a front for her survival with her own peers as it was for him and his, because behind closed doors at the end of the day, the pretence fell away and he knew – not sensed, but knew – that what she had just claimed as a survival game strategy was, in fact, the truth.

She couldn't hide it from him and she knew that, for when a human shares her life force with the wraith she mates with, they know the truth of how they feel about each other – no matter what games they must play out in public. And they both knew that this thing humans call love is just another game, after all…

THE END


End file.
